


the new guy might be a statue

by socially_impaired_puffin



Series: Autistic!Din Djarin [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Autistic!Din Djarin, Boba Fett - Freeform, Din Djarin - Freeform, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din-centric, Episode: s02e06 The Tragedy, Freezing, Gen, ManDadlorian, POV Din Djarin, POV Fennec Shand, Post-Episode: s02e06 The Tragedy, Protective Din Djarin, RIP Razor Crest 2020, So here we are, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and so instead i was like hey how about some of that late-season angst, and then i was like ugh i can't rn, fennec shand - Freeform, i was working on trask, might be more - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28847361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socially_impaired_puffin/pseuds/socially_impaired_puffin
Summary: At Boba's implied directioning, Fennec checks on Din only to find he's in the exact same position as before.He's...stressed.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Series: Autistic!Din Djarin [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016364
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	the new guy might be a statue

**Author's Note:**

> I totally definitely have been taking advantage of being home for break.

_Gone. First his job, then the covert, and now his home and his son. He had failed in every single one of his responsibilities. Grogu was gone. The Razor Crest was gone. Just the little metal ball clenched in his fist and the beskar spear he didn't earn. Gone. He failed._

Fennec didn't know quite what to make of their newest crew member. For starters, he wasn't, well, _crew_. She and Boba owed him, his home was destroyed, he had nothing, no plan, no resources, so now he was on Slave I. They didn't even know his name.  
For another thing, she did, technically, already know the man. Or at least, they'd already met. Impressive strategist, awkward conversationalist. Her suspicions that he was the Mandalorian that shot up the guild on Nevarro were confirmed correct, but that didn't provide much further insight. He seemed different, off, now.  
It became immediately clear on Tython, though, that this bounty hunter cared deeply for the child. She didn't need Boba to spell it out for her. He was devastated. He'd lost everything. No stranger to loss, she could empathize with that empty, aching feeling he probably held in his chest. Hollow. Nothing left.  
She steps out of the cockpit at Boba's nod, an implicit direction to check on their...guest. Concerningly, he was right where they left him, in the exact same position. His right hand still a tight fist and his left gripping the spear. He was utterly motionless, still just as tense as he was three hours earlier, when they asked where he wanted to go and he said "Nevarro" with no intonation or any outward sign beyond the spoken response that he even heard the question. Gaze straight ahead, feet planted, spine taunt. Fennec thought if he moved now he'd shatter and then wondered if maybe he _should_ shatter. Might be healthier. Not that she knew anything about what healthier would be.  
He gave no indication he noticed her arrival, which she had expected. Watching his shiny, unpainted beskar, so different from Boba's, she realized why he seemed different. He looked smaller. Like he was shrinking in on himself, _like the emptiness from the child's absence meant he took up less space_ , she realized. Whatever had anchored him was gone and he was collapsing inward, mental shields up in addition to his armor. That's what his posture conveyed. He'd been guarded before, but now he seemed...hollow.  
The Mandalorian continued ignoring her-if he even knew she was there-and remained still. "Hey" she tried. Nothing. "If I shoot you, will you react?" Nothing. _What the hell_ , she thought, and grabbed a nearby blaster. Before she could overthink it, she directed a shot at his left greave. As expected, the bolt glanced off the beskar. But no movement from the one wearing the beskar. _This is not ideal_ , Fennec reflected. _Kriff this_. She moved til she stood directly in front of him, and kicked the spear.

Din had enough self-awareness to understand that he was probably completely unaware of his surroundings. The distant, vaguely logical part of his mind, the one that stayed hunkered down amidst the despair and anger swirling around inside his skull, claimed that given the loss of G- _the kid_ , and the Razor Crest, it would make sense for him to fully disconnect from the world around him in an attempt to cope. It made no difference. He was _ut'reeyah beskar'gam_ and his grief made thorough use of this void within him.  
He knows at one point someone- _Fett_ -asked him where they needed to go. He's pretty sure at least part of his response was audible. He's not quite sure. Then again, if it wasn't, then the question would probably have been repeated until he provided a satisfactory answer. Hopefully. He's not moving, because it's not safe to move. He can't comfort himself on this stranger's ship. He doesn't _deserve_ to be comforted. He does not move, he can feel his heart beating throughout his arms and legs and fingers. He must be breathing, otherwise he would have fallen over. But he doesn't notice the sensation of expanding and compressing his lungs.  
His mind is just a continued repeat of _gone, gone, gone, failed, gone, gone, gone...and how small Grogu looked in the dark trooper's clutches. Failure. Gone. All gone. His fault. Failed._  
The _crack_ of a boot connecting with the spear changed the cycle. This was different. There is enough force applied to the spear following this sound that his fingers crack too, twisting and breaking apart, the sudden cold absence, his protesting fingers abruptly in a new position. _It's painful_ , he notes. Then a reverberating _clatter_ as the spear hits the floor. _Too loud_. He realizes Fennec is standing in front of him. _When did she get here?_ She stares at him, focused and expectant. _How long has she been here?_ She opens her mouth. _I should pick up the spear_.  
"Mando."  
He's looking at the spear, then up at Fennec, then back down at the spear. His hand remains in its new position, fingers askew and frozen. She is speaking again. What is she saying? She's crouching now. The spear moves. She picked it up?  
"Mando." She says again. She's offering him the spear. He should take the spear. That's what people do when they drop something and someone picks it up for them. He should do that. He doesn't move. "Are you…" he's not looking at her face, but the spear in her hand. He can still tell that she hesitates. "...okay?"  
Din laughs in response. If the laughing continued for too long and sounded more like sobbing, well, hopefully she couldn't tell through the helmet. He couldn't really bring himself to care.

Fennec didn't know what she expected. _Not this_ is about as close as she can figure. He finally stops the brutal, hoarse laughter and straightens, taking the spear from her. She can _hear_ the cracks as he stands up and hardens his stance. "Fine" he grounds out, his voice rough, and steps towards the cockpit.  
_What the kriff just-_

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to write at least one more chapter of this but we'll see  
> (ut'reeyah beskar'gam= empty armor)


End file.
